Gender Reassignment
by MockingjayWolf
Summary: Katniss - an arrogant jerk. Peeta - a Mary Sue. Haymitch - a ditzy bimbo. Effie - a metrosexual. What has happened? Gender reassignment, of course! *Rated T for safety - R&R!*
1. Chapter 1: Katniss

**A/N:** _I'm in a strange mood today... This random plot-bunny was hatched while I was playing piano. There's treasure everywhere, to quote Calvin and Hobbes. I've reversed everyone's genders…. And sometimes their personalities. Please enjoy this series of drabbles, and R&R if you like it. If you don't, R&R anyway - constructive criticism is appreciated. Flames, however, are not._

**Part 1: Katniss Everdeen**

_"Arrogance is in everything I do. It is in my gestures, the harshness of my voice, in the glow of my gaze, in my sinewy, tormented face."_

_-Coco Chanel_

"Like, the winner is... Primrose Everdeen! Yeah, Primmy!" Effie Trinket's gruff voice rebounds around District 12.

What? There was no way that this is going down. My stupid little brother Prim... he would never make it. To the Capitol, that is. Like I'm going to let that dummy have all the glory.

"_I volunteer!"_ I yell, my masculinity rolling off me in waves. God, I'm so awesome.

Prim stares at me in shock. "No, Katniss! You can't do that! _I wanna be Tribute! I wanna, I wanna, I WANNA!" _He bursts into tears.

What a crybaby. I roll my eyes. "Too late, d-bag. See you at the Capitol... oh, no I won't. Loser!"

I sniff, disgusted, as I stare down at the filthy inhabitants of – dare I say it? – _my _district, from the stage. I stomach heaves as the stench of a thousand unwashed bodies washes over me. It must be the elevation of the stage – these people have never smelt _this _bad before. I choke as Effie, the great, fat bear, sticks the microphone under my nose. Luckily, he mistakes the gag for emotion.

"Oh, you poor, brave soul, sacrificing yourself for your entire District," he drawls in a very heavy accent. "If you don't want to say anything, that's fine."

I recover myself just in time to grab the microphone and flash a toothy, white grin at the cameras.

"Look out, Capitol, because here comes your new Victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games! The gorgeous," I brush a hand over my thick, wavy, conditioned-by-hand locks, "smart, silver-tongued – and for the ladies, silver-lipped – and all around humble, not to mention the most amazing person in District 12 – nay, all of Panem – the unique Boy Tribute from District 12… _Katniss Everdeen!"_

I raise my muscular arms over my head to acknolegde the uproar of cheers that is sure to hit me any second. Any second now. Any second. Any second.

I narrow my eyes and jab a rude gesture, made all the more potent by the fact that it is made by _moi, _and imagine the cries of joy that are surely happening over in the Capitol. Oh, how they must be celebrating my coming.

I run my tongue over my teeth and wink at Peeta Mellark. She's a barrel-chested girl with curves to rival a snake's – definitely a prize to keep my eye on. She blushes and glances down at her feet, twisting at one of her sleek pigtails.

!~!

"Gale. Nice of you to drop by." I flex one of my biceps nonchalantly as the slim brunette floats into the Justice Building room.

Gale smiles dreamily and holds up two fingers in a peace sign. "Katniss, just keep the peace when you go out there, man. Violence is not the way to go, man. Just stay calm and let the vibe push everything into place," she murmurs.

I grimace. Gale is the only one who would do this. She's always been this way – peaceful, non-violent, quiet (mostly – in my glorious fantasies she's a chatterbox). "Gale – look after Prim, okay? He's too stupid to look after himself. Normally, I wouldn't ask, but if – I mean, _when_ I come home, a corpse in my house would really ruin the moment."

"Sure, man. I'll make sure the little boy is eating. We're all brothers, man. We gotta look out for each other in this world, and…" she trails off, starry-eyed.

"Thanks, Galey girl. Now, get out. I have to get into character for the train ride." I turn away, having already forgotten my friend.

She slips away without so much as a goodbye. That's what I like about Gale. She's silent when I need her to be silent – so _I _can talk.

Once I'm alone once more, I stride to a nearby mirror hanging on the wall. I beam at myself.

"Oh, Katniss, how do you do it? How do you look so absolutely fabulous?" I ask myself. "Katniss, you are _worth it!" _

**A/N:** _So... there you go. Katniss the arrogant jerk. Next up - Haymitch!_


	2. Chapter 2: Haymitch

**A/N:**_Part 2 is up! Sorry for making you wait so long - it's the last few weeks of school and the teachers are literally growing us in homework. Part 3 will be up... whenever I can finish it. By the way, please read Haymitch's large chunks of text on strategies - I promise, it'll be worth it! Thank you for putting up with me; and thanks to BalladOfNight, Tetanahayna and Wetstar for reviewing! And the rest of you who read, but don't review - PLEASE DO! Review, I mean._

**Part 2 – Haymitch Abernarthy**

_"I'm blonde – what's your excuse?"_

_-Reese Witherspoon_

"So… like, where are the toilets again?" I lean back against a cushion, fiddling with a loose string.

"They are down the hall, first door to the left, Miss Abernarthy," the attendant says through gritted teeth. I have no idea why – it's only the fourth time I've asked that question.

"Okay, thanks. Can I have your number?"

"Why?"

"In case I forget where the toilets are. Where are they again?"

"I'll leave you to the Tributes, Miss Abernarthy." He backs out with a stiff-limbed bow.

I stare at a spot on the wall, smiling faintly.

!~!

"Haymitch?"

I turn my head blearily. The spot on the wall hasn't moved for the past two hours. It wouldn't move, I decide finally, and turn to greet the newcomers.

An ape ducks into the car first. I scream, and throw a pillow at it. When it stares at me in confusion, I scream again.

"_Security! Security! Security! Security!" _I shriek. "_Monkey in the car! Monkey in the car! Monkey in the – _oh. Hello, Effie." I realize that it is him when I see his outfit; Effie, always well-dressed.

"Nice to see you too, dearest," I chirp, when he gives me a glare to wake the dead. I shudder. That's not something I'd want to go through again - the corpses stink.

Two figures follow Effie into the car. The first, a handsome, wiry boy, strides in confidently and flashes me a winning smile. I beam at him and waggle a flaunty hand back. He is closely followed by a busty girl, dressed in a beautiful green skirt and fleece sweater, with a mockingjay on her shoulder – chirping merrily – and a baby deer (What were they called again? Fyawns?) in her arms, looking quite content.

I rose from my seat unsteadily and made their acquaintance – Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. I could tell that both of them had a good chance. Already, my mind was beginning to formulate a plan for each of them. Yes. Perfect. So very, very, very, very, cheese, very, very, very, very, I'm hungry, very, very, very, very, very perfect.

Mmm. Chocolate.

!~!

"Okay, so, Katniss, what are your strengths?" It was the next morning, we were still on the train, my hair was an absolute mess, and drilling Katniss on how to stay alive was the least of my worries. But, I did have to do it. It was my civic duty, after all - to deliver these two children to their deaths.

"Well, I'm incredibly strong, fast, handsome, charming, agile, smart, clever, witty, awesome, amazing, excellent, smooth, honest, caring, polite, responsible, self-controlled, patient, creative, out-going, muscular, competitive, friendly, studious, calm, tidy and have great teeth. And that's about it, really." He frowns and scratches his strong chin thoughtfully.

"Excellent! Excellent! Oh, I have so much to work with! You and I will get along splendidly!" I trill in a high voice.

He glances at me. "So, gorgeous blonde woman who I have no idea of the name of, what's my strategy?"

"Here's what you will do. You're going to run away from everyone, fast as you can. Don't worry about grabbing anything… just run. Run, run, as fast as you can. No one will catch you, because you're the District 12 man…" I trailed off in a singsongy voice.

He snaps his fingers in my face. "Keep it together, tootz. What's my strategy?"

"Right. So, after you finish running, you climb a tree. Then, you rip the arms off your jacket and flex your biceps. You have to flex like you've never flexed before. You must reach deep within to bring out the power of the flex. Use the flex, Luke – I mean, Katniss. Um…And then, a shower of parachutes will almost certainly squash you. Then, you can take whatever's in there and build a treehouse out of it. And you can live in there with all the little squirrellies and the mousies and the fire-breathing dragonies." I clap my hands together gleefully. "Oh, it _will _be a Hunger Games to remember! Then, you just outlast everyone else by living off the tree bark, air and tracker jacker excrement."

He screws up his face in confusion. "Lady, how exactly did you win the 50th Hunger Games?"

"Why do you ask?"

!~!

"Okay, Peeta, here's your strategy," I turn to the girl as she blinks her huge eyes at me. "You… aw, you're so cute. I could just pick you up and bite your little head off. Anyhoo, when the gong goes off or whatever, you need to skip – _skip, not run – _to the Cornucopia. Don't touch any corpses. They're icky and will get your dress dirty. You need to get to a blow-dryer. There will be a pile of trinkets – necklaces, bracelets, rings – but you want something useful. And nothing is more useless in the Arena than a bad hair day. So _get that blow-dryer! _And," I shrug, "grab anything else that suits your fancy. Ooh! That's a nice phrase… _suits your fancyyyyyyyy… _Anyhoo, then you skip to the forest, singing loudly and impossibly beautifully, like you do. It is likely, that on your way there, you will meet another Tribute that you need to kill. If so, I assume that you a master of karate?"

Peeta nods, smiling winningly. "Of course, Miss Haymitch."

"So, you will use your karate skills to kill him-"

"But, Miss Haymitch, killing people is wrong!" Peeta's eyes well up with tears.

Effie, from the other side of the car, asks, "Like, what do you think you're in the Hunger Games for, dummy?"

"To lose weight, of course!" Peeta begins to cry. Hundreds of tears pour down her heart-shaped, unblemished face. Unsurprisingly, her face neither puffs up or goes red, like it would with anyone else. "It's the _Hunger _Games_! _I thought we'd be hungry for a while, drop 15 pounds and go home!"

Katniss stares disbelievingly at her. "Where have you been for the last 74 years?"

"Anyhoo! After you've, ah, killed him – we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, sweetheart," I soothe, glancing, slightly terrified, at Peeta's horrified face. _I'm not used to kids and their inability to kill other kids! _"You will run into the woods, or whatever the arena is. There, animals will be attracted to you, and form, well, sort of a defense force. They, although they've only just met you and are animals, will protect you with their lives. Then, two days later – no more, no less – you will go out and find a handsome, wounded male Tribute. He must be _EXTREMELY HANDSOME_! Note the three exclamation points, Peeta. That's how handsome he must be. Anyhoo, then you will nurse him back to health, regardless of the fact that you have no basic medical skills or medicines and that he is on the brink of death, and he will fall in love with you when he wakes up. Then, you will kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss, and the Capitol audience will fall in love with you two and smile with heart-warmed gladness. And they will shower you with blow-dryers and other tools of beauty, and if you win, you win, and if you die, well, you die happy and in love."

"And skinny!"

"Yes, and skinny too."

"Alright, fine, lady," Katniss moans, rolling his eyes. "Then what do we do for our interviews?"

"Um… do what I did 24 years ago."

"Which was?"

"Remain silent when Caesar asks you any questions, and just mutter at the end that you don't know how to turn on a spear." I frown, still confuzzled about that matter. Spears did, and still don't have an _On _button.

Katniss buries his face in his hands. "We're going to _die!"_

"Oh, you're welcome, sweetie!" I beam and walk over to the dessert cart to search for something scrummy to put in my tummy. _Mmm. Scrummy. Tummy._ Those two words rhyme! I feel an inner bubble of pride swell up in my brain as I pop a chocolate cream tart into my ear, before remembering myself, and placing it in my mouth instead.

**A/N:**_Hehe. Haymitch was fun to write. Effie's up next *MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!*_


	3. Chapter 3: Effie

**A/N:**Well, I'm not really sure what to write here, so I will just say hi and tell you my favorite animal is a wolf. Well, as Effie may or may not say, "It's a big, big, BIG chapter ahead!" *_Not really, this is the shortest one yet. Enjoy anyway, and R&R!*  
_By the way, thanks to Katnissfire87654, BalladOfNight & Eagle-of-the-Ninth for their kind reviews. Ballad, do you mind if I use your 'annoying everyone to death' idea for the sequel (if there is one). How about it, guys? Would you read a sequel to this (just think: Johanna as a boy- and better yet... Finnick as a girl!).

Thanks to the people who put this fic on Story Alert and the like. Now, I think I've jabbered on long enough - on with the story!

**Part 3 – Effie Trinket**

_"Metrosexual__ is a neologism derived from metropolitan and heterosexual coined in 1994 describing a man (especially one living in an urban, post-industrial, capitalist culture) who spends a lot of time and money on shopping for his appearance.__"_

_-Wikipedia, the Source of All Knowledge Ever_

Just because I'm large around the shoulders, people assume that I'm fat. I'm not! It's all muscle. And because I love my muscle so much, I am generous enough to insulate and protect it with a layer of fat.

With my toenails buffed, my hair teased, my eyes outlined in black and my cuticles sparkling clean, I was ready for anything. Totally, anything.

Except for the fashion sense of two particular District 12 children.

Atrocious would be an understatement. The boy, well, I guess he wasn't too bad, as far as walking fashion disasters go. But the girl…

With hair twisted into two sleek pigtails, the sixteen year old gave out the impression of a twelve year old. And that wasn't even the worst part. She wore just one item of clothing: The Hooped Horror.

A lemon-crème colored dress, it slipped over her shoulders and puffed out into two frill smothered balls. Lace entwined itself around the collar and down the bodice, spilling onto the hoop that was the skirt. It exploded away from her, somehow managing to make itself look alive. It was a lampshade, to say the least. I shudder in looking at it, thankful that I am of the male chromosome and will never have to wear something as gaudy as the Hooped Horror.

You say I have an eye for detail? Well, thank you, darling. It's both a blessing and a curse, I must admit.

In the Capitol, this year's style is all about subtlety. And unfortunately, neither of these children fit the bill. For a start, Katniss is far too loud about himself, for a start. I look him square in the eye.

"Subtlety, Katniss, subtlety!" I try to remind him. "Now, I want you to, like, practice being silent for two minutes, okay? Just two – that's it."

I sit back, confident that he will be able to do this.

After ten seconds, Katniss looks fine.

After thirty seconds, he starts shifting uncomfortably, as if there are spiky pine needles all over his seat. I arch a well-trimmed eyebrow.

After a minute, he begins to turn blue.

After a minute and thirty seconds, blue turns to purple. I stay seated, unconcerned. If there was anything really important or dangerous happening, Katniss would say so.

After a minute and forty-five seconds, he passes out, sprawling to the floor gracefully, like a ballet dancer.

I lean over him quickly, checking his pulse. In doing so, my baby-blue leather top hat – imported from District 10, costing $65 – slips off my head and rolls away on the floor. I jump up like my behind is on fire and race after it, accidently kicking Katniss in the face in the process.

Picking up the soft leather in my hands, I blow and rub it until I'm sure no speck of dirt remains, no matter how microscopic. Needless to say, it takes about, oh, ten or fifteen minutes. Only when I'm done do I turn back to Katniss.

He's asleep. I sigh, reach over and tug his collar into place. Then, I lean back and inspect my handiwork.

When we reach the Capitol, I'm going to have to teach Katniss Everdeen two new phrases: _credit card _and _shopping spree._

!~!

"Peeta, what can we do about your outfit? Well, of course, Cinna will take care of that. So, what can you do that will help you to, like, survive the Hunger Games and stuff?" I tug at my rhimestone bracelet; costing $78.97, it was a great deal.

"Well…" she glances down her hands, and suddenly I felt the inexplicable urge to hug her. "I can sing well. Uh, I can speak, um, Hindi, Latin, Italian, Australian, Antarctican and, er, Zimbabwean. Animals really like me. Oh, and I'm telepathic."

She flicks her silvery-blonde hair, perfectly combed over her shoulders and smiled shyly out the window.

"Well, dear, that's a start, I suppose. But, Haymitch and I can work with that." _If she ever stops being such a platitudinous bimbo._

"What's 'platitudinous'?" Peeta asks in a voice like honey, coated with sugar and gumdrops that had just been churned out of the microwave of happiness.

I'm lost for words. Telepathic? I might be fashionable, but I'm certainly not stupid. This telepathy thing could be excellent. Yes, indeed…

Just as soon as I got Peeta into a decent dress. Maybe light blue, something to match her eyes, with some sort of burette or bow. Oh, and of course, stilettos. I mean, high heels are a girl's best friend, after all. _Ahem, _not that I, uh, would know anything about heels.

**A/N:**Meh. This chapter felt less like a good one, as opposed to Haymitch and Katniss. Thoughts? I appreciate all positive reviews and constructive criticisms. Up next, is Cinna! Trust me, guys, this will be good *evil grin*. Here's a taster, in case you're not convinced.

_I summed up all my energy inside of me, balling it up into one big, huge fireball of fury..._

_"CINNA SMASH!"_

__Yep, that's your taster. See you soon! I'll get the next chapter up as soon as possible. Thanks for everything!


	4. Chapter 4: Cinna

**A/N:**I self-edit, so if there are any mistakes, please excuse moi. *As you can tell, I _obviously _speak French. And Japanese. And Australian. And Antarctican.* Thanks to:  
**Aspect1**_ (Your review made my day - this is my first attempt at writing humor, so it's nice to know I'm not failing miserably)_ , **pinkish-red hearts** _(Thank you - I know, it's hard to imagine any of Ms Collins' characters doing what they're doing in this story)_ and **GlimmerfromDistrict1**_ (I can't wait to write Cato as a girl - but, unfortunately, his POV is near the end of the story - keep hanging on!)  
_**BalladOfNight, Wetstar, Katnissfire87654,** thanks especially to you three for bearing with me and reading and reviewing more than once. Have a virtual cookie.  
And thanks to all of the people who put this story on Alert and Favorites - I would list you guys, but I'm too lazy to... but you know who you are! Thanks! I wuv you all! And on with the story - Cinna, it's go time!

**Part 4 – Cinna**

_"Don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."_

_-Dr. Bruce Banner_

!~!

"Cinna-"

"_WHAT!" _I whirl around wildly, eyes wide in a seeming fit of madness. "_What does you want?"_

"Um… the District 12 kids are here." Portia winces as if he expects to be hit by one of my flying fists of fury.

I grunt. "Cinna not ready. Cinna want to remain here and drink lemon juice. Lemon juice _guuuuud_." I grasp my glass with renewed vigor and down it in one gulp. Lemon juice guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuud.

Portia narrows his eyes. "Cinna, they need to be met. The prep teams have finished."

"_Cinna no like prep teams! Prep teams stupid! CINNA SMASH PREP TEAM!" _I roar angrily, pounding my fists on my chest.

Portia backs away, just a step. "Cinna, you forgot to take your smiley pills again, didn't you?"

"Cinna no forget," I grumble, shifting in my tight blue dress that strains uncomfortably against my watermelon-sized muscles, "Cinna just don't like taking pill. Pill make Cinna no happy. Pill make Cinna hurtsy in the bum-bum."

Portia walks over to my cupboard and sticks a long, slim arm into it, rooting around for my pill. He smiles when his fist closes around it. Pulling out a huge, white pill that's almost as large as one of my meaty hands, he lugs it over to the mahogany table at which I sulk.

"Come on, Cinna," he chides, holding the pill out towards me. "It'll be over before you know it."

I shut my mouth tight and cross my arms. "_Cinna HATE pill! Sue-positery not fun!"_

Portia sighs and backs away. "Fine. I just feel sorry for your Tribute. You can take your suppository pill later."

As she walks out, I yell after her, "NOOOOOOO!"

!~!

"Portia and me see me job to make 12-vy Tributts non-forget." I bellow at the two terrified Tributes, all prepped up by the silly little prep teams. "Cinna not want to focus on coal mining, because it yucky. We focus on coal."

"So… we'll be like, on fire or something?" Katniss intones with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah… I can see it now… The 'Boy on Fire'. Synthetic flames. A fantastic, muscle-hugging costume. It'll be great! Wait, that's what we're doing… right?"

"No. Well, not exactly. Sort of, I mean." Portia gives me a pained look.

"What?" I ask.

"Which one do you want? Because, if you have no preference-"

"No care. Cinna take either. Both ugly and dumb. No matter," I shrug.

Katniss' eyes widen and he opens his mouth to retort, but Portia cuts him off.

"In that case, I call dibs on Blondie. Come along, muffin." Portia beams, and takes Peeta by the wrist, walking off.

Katniss and I are left staring at each other.

!~!

"Look, Cinna or whatever your name is, I don't like the fact that you referred to me as ugly. And dumb. I am neither of which, so you can just take that and shove it up your-"

"Ugly boy talk too much, shut up your face! Cinna need to think." I walk around Katniss, inspecting him, my mood growing blacker by the second.

"I will not 'shut up my face', you big lug! I am a Tribute, and will be treated with such respect as I deserve. You dare tell me to-"

"_Cinna is Capitol-champion of mud-wrestling_," I growl. "Puny boy think he can beat me?"

"Puny boy knows he can beat you. Bring it on, lady." Katniss crossed his arms and waited.

I turn and face him, summing up all of my energy inside of me, balling it up into one big, huge fireball of furious, furious, furious fury.

"CINNA SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!"

I roar and leap on Katniss, pulling him to the ground and pummeling his stomach with repeated blows to the diaphragm.

Katniss shrieks and claws at me, trying to push my 431 pounds off of him.

"_Cinna! Stop that this instant!"  
_

I turn to see Portia, Haymitch, Effie and Peeta all hurrying into the room, looking horrified. Haymitch looks around, confused.

"I heard a little girl screaming. Where has she gone?" she cries, horrified.

"No little girl," I snicker. "Just puny Kat_piss_ bawling for Cinna to stop smashing."

"Not _again, _Cinna! You're in _so_ much trouble!" Portia yells at me.

I frown, and point at Katniss. "He started it, Port-ya!"

!~!

"You have _got _to be kidding me."

"Cinna no kidding. Perfect costume for ugly boy and pretty girl." I look Katniss up and down, nodding approvingly at his parade costume.

"And how exactly did your tiny mind formulate this costume?"

"Cinna spent nine and a half hours staring at fire, contemp-er-latin' mysteries of universe. Doctor say Cinna's retinas are only partially permanently damaged. Cinna should be able to see a foot in front of her in six to nine months," I grunt.

"Well, that explains a lot." Katniss glares at me grumpily from inside a giant, black Styrofoam meatball. Well, it's really supposed to be a giant lump of coal, but it was the best I could do.

Katniss' hands stick out comically, flapping about like tiny fishy-fins. His head surfaces from the Styrofoam like a drowning man's head from the ocean. He narrows his eyes, and promptly falls over.

I guffaw in laughter.

Katniss screams, "_Help me up! I've friggen' fallen and I can't get up! It's this stupid meatball!_"

"Coal," I remind him patiently. When he shrieks in annoyance, I lean over and yank him up, hard. He goes flying over my head and crashes into a nearby wall.

I snigger. I don't know my own strength sometimes. "Cinna sorry, Capitol-food-for-brains."

Katniss pushes himself off the wall blearily. "And another thing… Cinna," he gasps. "Why do you refer to yourself in third person?"

"Cinna _like_ third person, dum-dum. Cinna too awesome to refer to self in any other tense." I nod, agreeing with myself. Third is a good number. But then again, so is eleventy-two and two-ty-six. "Katpiss like meatball… coal?"

_"KATPISS HATE MEATBALL-COAL!" _Katniss roars.

"Good," I say contentedly. "Then Katpiss will love what come next."

!~!

Somehow, Peeta, dressed in the exact same ginormous, rotund outfit, manages to make it look flattering and pretty. She smiles as I come in.

"Hello, Cinna, thank you ever so much for the lovely outfit. I know it will bring me ever so many sponsers." She beams and turns to adjust a sparkly bow exploding off of her head. Pink, of course.

"Pita welcome," I grumble.

Portia enters the room and smiles. "Right, you two. Who's ready for the parade?"

"Ooh, me! I am!" Peeta squeals, raising her hand enthusiastically above her head and waving it about.

"I'm not," Katniss thunders. "Not until I've seen a lawyer, a manicurist, two hairstylists and, oh, throw in a therapist for good measure. Looking this good in this bad a costume is super-duper-stressful."

"Oh, shut face. Final step of costume," I remark, placid, as the two black hornless-unicorns next to me toss their heads and snort, eager to begin pulling their chariots. Around us, the other Districts get ready with their dumb stylists. They stare behind their hands and laugh out loud.

But I know it's just because they're jealous of my excellent costume design.

"Katpiss and Pita are eye-catching. Need more, though, to look excellent." I hold up a large blowtorch and switch it on. Flames explode from the mouth of the torch.

Katniss' pupils dilate. So do Portia's. And Peeta's. And Haymitch's. And Effie's. There's a lot of dilating going on.

"Oh, relax, dumb-heads," I reassure them. "Styrofoam perfectly flame-proof. All fine. Just hold still…"

!~!

**A/N:**_And der vou go. I'll let you guys imagine what happens next, knowing that whatever happens in your imaginations will be infinitely more awesome than anything I could write. :) By the way - if you wanna guess what happened and leave it in a review (along with some kind words, please), I might use it in the next chapter. Next up... Caesar Flickerman!_


	5. Chapter 5: Caesar

**A/N:** *Sheepish face*. I may have to raise the rating for this chapter. Um, just a warning... this chapter contains pink sludge, f-bombs and a whole lotta insults. Again, thanks to everyone who reviewed and favorited and alerted!

**Caesar Flickerman**

_!~!_

_"Each of us carries within himself a collection of instant insults."_

_-Haim Ginott_

!~!

"And.. next up… Who's next!" I ask, eyebrows lowered over my deep blue eyes.

A soft whisper from off-stage gets my attention. "And next up!" I roar to the audience. "Katpiss Neverlean!"

Another whisper, sharper this time, catches me again. I titter and smile winningly at the cameras.

"Oh… LOL, everyone! I'm terribly sorry!" I grimace at the audience as they roar with laughter. _I hate you all so much. "_Kat_niss _Neverlean!"

A third whisper – well, this time it's more of a bellow than a whisper – makes me check myself… yet again. I clear my throat… yet again.

"Katniss _Everdeen, _everybody!" I finally yell, as a muscular boy walks – no, _struts – _onto the stage.

"Right, Katniss, sit down, please!" _Come on, you idiot, we have to start the interview! _"Sit down!"

He continues to stand, waving and blowing kisses at the cheering audience.

"Sit down, you imbecile!" I hiss at him. He looks at me, startled, but plops into a chair, flexing his biceps nonchalantly.

"So, Flicky, 'sup?"

_Flicky? Oh no, he did not just- _I feel something inside me twitch. As calmly as I can, I reach a hand inside my jacket and start feeling around in the many pockets. To distract the audience and the idiot Everdeen, I plaster a HUGE smile on my face and begin to talk.

"Oh, I'm just fine, thank you, Mr Everdeen!" I push back a strand of long, wavy blue hair innocently and bat long lashes at him. _Where is it? _"Let's get started, shall we?"

"Yeah. Wouldn't want to deprive the ladies..." he pauses, presumably for effect, "… of _this!"_

He clenches his fists, strains, and flexes. A ripping sound ensues. Button by button, Katniss' frilly polo shirt groans at the seams. A tiny tear appears along his spine.

The ladies in the audience gasp. Good. At least _some _people are enjoying Everdeen taking off his clothing with no hands.

With a last shriek of defiance, Katniss' polo shirt split apart, revealing well-oiled abs of steel.

And an eighteen-pack.

His many abdominals ripple under the stage-lights, and 40% of the female population in the audience faint dead away. The other 60%'s eyeballs melt out of their faces. I raise an eyebrow.

_The show must go on, right?_

"So, uh, Mr Everdeen!" I clear my throat again, and lean just a little farther away from his muscles. I flash him a surgery-whitened grin, and my roaming hand speeds up slightly as it doesn't find what I'm looking for in my jacket. _Goddammit, where is it? Hoo boy… this could be bad. _"What is life like in District 12? Well, not too bad, I suppose, as you're still AAS?" There is a light laugh from the audience that shows they have no idea what I'm talking about; obviously none of them understand the sophisticated language of text-talk. I mean, seriously, how hard is it to know that 'AAS' stands for 'Alive And Smiling'?

But I regret the question as soon as it pops out of my mouth. I look at interviewing like making out; you can't go straight for the chest – you have to probe around on the surface a little before you stick in the deep questions. But I'm distracted, searching for the syringe. And it's not there.

_No! _If I'm to maintain my lovable Care-Bear-like personality… and, secondly, my career, I need to find that syringe. _Fuck! Oh, great, _IT'S_ starting._

"Well, Flicka, I'll tell you. It's cold and wet and miserable and I'm the only hot one there and my little brother sucks and my best friend is a hippie and indulges in a _ton _of celibacy, and –" He continues, but my ears block it out.

_Flicka? Flicka? FLICKA! _The change is not instant, but this kid has pushed me too far over the line. I mean, TWO NICKNAMES? That's _one_ more than I can handle.

With the absence of the syringe, there's only one thing to do. Give in.

I growl low in my throat, and Katniss freezes, his mouth hanging open in the middle of a sentence.

"Flickerz? Are you okay, miss?" He seems genuinely concerned, and suddenly I'm wondering if I should forgive him. Wait…_Flickerz?_

But, of course, it's far too late for that now. I feel the 'true me' coming, and I suck in a breath and throw back my shoulders, glaring at Everdeen with true loathing.

"Everdeen!" I smile viciously; I'm sure my canines seem almost pointed under the stage lights. Nedward would be very proud. _Wait a second. What? Hold everything._

_You honestly mean that you've never heard of Nedward Sullen, the hot-jock-turned-even-hotter-vampire and his love Bella-Boo Woodpecker, the somehow-amazingly-beautiful-yet-not-popular-yet-all-the-guys-like-her-gothic-chick? It's the greatest love story in the Capitol! Well, I don't know about the Districts, darling. I expect they read dirty books, and teenage WEREWOLF romance novels. I mean, seriously, how uncultured can you get? Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, about to succumb to my disease._

"Yes… Flicky-poo? What is it? Maybe my triceps are too much for a little lady like yourself? Or is it perhaps… my triceps? Or my lattisimus dorsi? Or my adductor magnus? Or my semitendinosus? Or perhaps my Sartorius? " He purses his lips and leans his head towards me. "Or my gracilis? Or my teres major or teres minor? Or my flexor hallicis longus? Or my vastus lateralis-"

"Go and drink a glass of _shut the fuck up!" _I scream suddenly.

Silence. Dead, absolute silence. The Capitol audience stares at me with widened eyes, all ten of them (well, there would be more… but Katniss took out quite a few).

I narrow my eyes. _May as well be hung for a fucking sheep as for a lamb. _"FYI, it looks like someone set fire to you face and tried to put it out with a fork!"

Katniss breaks out of his stupor long enough to sniff sorrowfully and say, "I _knew _Styrofoam wasn't flame-proof."

"_Really?" _I widen my eyes dramatically. "Everdeen, if you were twice as smart, you'd still be as fuckbutting stupid!"

"There's no need for that kind of language, Caesar," Katniss intones loudly, glancing worriedly at me. "How's about you give me my next question?"

"Alright, fudgepacker!" _No, stop, before this gets too bad! _My common sense tries to tell me, but my syringe is sadly missing, and without it, well… let's just say my _medical condition _will just worsen. "Hmm… I would ask you how old you are, but I doubt you can count that high!"

"_Hey! I can too-_"

But I interrupt. "Katniss, tell me, when you were born, I'll bet the police arrested your dad-"

"Actually, my dad's dea-"

"-the doctor slapped your mother-"

"Uh, Greasy Sae delivered me. We don't have doctors-"

"-Animal Control euthanized your brother-"

"Oh, I _wish_! But Prim's still ali-"

"-and A&E made a documentary that saved your life!" I finish, placing my hands angrily on my hips.

"Sorry, what's 'A&E'?" Katniss seems bewildered. But I ain't finished yet.

"_Aw_, are you _confuzzled_? Well, why don't you just shut up and give that hole in your face a chance to rest for a minute?" From behind a curtain, I can see a stage-hand frantically hissing into a handheld transceiver. Good. Maybe someone will finally give me a _queefing _syringe.

"Well…. Well…" Katniss looks around frantically. "You're… you're _fat! _So there!" He seems extremely pleased with himself.

I raise an eyebrow and clear my throat again. It's a habit. "I may be fat, but you're ugly… and I can diet."

An _oooooh _rings out from the audience startling Katniss. He whips his head around to stare at them, and finally bursts into loud baby-sobs.

_Hah. I've won. _"Wow, are you a-"

A wail from Katniss cuts me off.

"_I said_, you are an extreme-"

He shrieks and buries his head in his hands, crying.

"_Hey! I said_, you are an extreme pi-"

And he begins to squall.

Sheesh. I roll my eyes and give up, just as a bell goes off, signaling the end of the interview.

"Katniss Everdeen, of District 12… the Meatball on Fire, everyone!" I smirk as the crowd begins to clap slowly, unsure of where they stand.

Katniss knows enough to stumble off stage, mucus running out of his nose, saliva dribbling out of his mouth, something that looks like slime oozing out of his ears and hot-pink gunk trickling slowly out of his eyes and onto his still-unclothed abs. And I don't like the look of that dark splash on the front of his breeches.

"Next up… Peeta Mellark, the female Tribute from District 12!" I call. And wait. And wait.

From offstage, I can hear and see a brief scuffle; three stage-hands wrestle with Peeta, trying to get her onstage. They finally shove her into range of the cameras, where she stands, shaking hard, like a leaf in the wind. An elegant, beautiful, lovely, golden, autumn leaf.

Suddenly, I decide that I like her (even though I haven't exchanged even a word with her) and smile gently at her.

"It's okay – _vjayjay – _whoops, sorry, sweetheart," I grin. "It's okay, I don't bite… literally."

When she doesn't move, and whimpers in fear, my heart melts into a huge pile of pink goo – kind of like the sludge that was just coming out of Katniss' eyes. "Oh, it's alright, Peeta," I coax. "Come on, girl!"

Frozen. I sigh tolerantly, reach a hand inside my jacket and pull out a small syringe. I grin at her and quickly punch the needle into my arm, sighing with content as the anti-swearing drugs start to course through my veins.

"_Takia noteyheyt Aulu uytr," _I tell her soothingly, assuming she can understand Antarctican – all the best people do. _It's okay, honey, the whole thing was just a scheme to boost the ratings – I have a rare medical disease that causes me to swear and insult the nearest perso,n until I can inject this anti-swear drug into my body. I'm okay now. _An amazing language, is Antarctican.

"_Tyygh." _Peeta relaxes and comes to join me. _Okay, Miss Flickerman, I trust you wholly and completely._

I settle back into my chair, and begin to rapid-fire questions at Peeta, knowing this will be my last interview ever. Although my show is only watched by a grand total of nine people, one of those people is President Snow. And as nice as she is, my behavior tonight was… well, inexcusable. But… it was fun.

_Ah well. Shit – whoops – I mean, IT happens, right?_

Chronic-swearing-and-insulting-disorder-syndrome. You can't live with it, but you sure as bloody hellfuckers (_aw, shoot_ - _whoops_) can't live without it.

!~!

**A/N:** So... Yeah. Sorry for that. (Failed my Chinese test today and I am NOT happy... I think that's where this might have come from). Anyways, review please, and I promise the next chapter will be more child-friendly.

Next up... the Games have begun, and Rue is POVing!


	6. Chapter 6: Rue

**A/N:** Okay, so I'm sure I'm infringing a TON of copyright here, whether it be Dungeons and Dragons, Barbie or Chanel No 5. Or some other stuff. So just know that I own... nothing in this chapter except for the writing. The basic plot-line isn't even mine (since I'm more or less following the Hunger Games' plot-line). I'm sorry this took so long, yada yada, I've been traveling, yada yada. In all seriousness, thanks to pinkish-red-hearts, Wetstar and everyone who has followed or favorited. Enjoy, and R&R!

**Part 6 – Rue **

_"Being a nerd really pays off sometimes."  
_-Ken Jennings

I pause, leaning over the board for a better view. Narrowing my eyes, I smile.

"…That was when the sorcerer, Rarr'al Guun, decided that it was time to - aw, playing D&P by myself sucks!" I yell and flip the board away. The character chips spray everywhere, and my eyes widen.

"_No! Hea'thha!"_ I scream and launch myself after my favorite chip. Hea'ttha, a rather busty, curvy female warrior whose chiseled features stand out clearly on the small playing chip, has landed in a nearby bush. I pick her up quickly, maintaining some small level of panic, and dust her off.

"There, there, Hea'thha," I croon, wiping a smudge of mud off her. "Your paladin, Roc Paarndo Ratesca the Fifteenth shall protect you." For that is I.

Okay, so I'm not really Roc Paarndo Ratesca the Fifteenth, the famous paladin knight who is feared and loved across the land of Blackmoor (the original campaign setting of Dungeons & Panems, thank you very much). Nay, I fear I am just Rue, lowly fruit-picker of District 11. Oh, you want to know more about me? How kind.

I'm 12 years of age, just old enough to qualify for Model Panem Nations and the Mathematics Discussion Group of Panem – not to mention the Epic Awesome Card-Collectors Anonymous Club. Most boys don't appreciate those facts; District 11 is just_ filled_ with buff almost-men who work out daily and wear ripped jeans – it's sickening. I, by contrast, dabble in the all-too-exciting art of wearing suspenders and checkered pants. What? I'm serious. Admittedly, wearing suspenders does make it hard to climb trees, but it's worth it – especially in school, where those same buff guys like to 'de-bag' and 'flushie' me. No, no, I don't really want to talk about it. But I will say that I wear _the_ _coolest _pair of glasses you will ever see. Big, black and bulky, with some heavy tape wrapped round the bridge because of the number of times they've been broken. Anyways… where was I? Oh, yeah, with Hea'thha...

I sigh, and sit down by my backpack. Since the gong has gone off and the Hunger Games have begun, I have received a total of 17 sponsor gifts – and it's only been two hours! I attribute that to my extremely successful Tribute interview, where I discussed the reliability of Ampere's circuital law and whether or not the Iagonalififc principle fits into the retroscumpelcyatbility of the law itself. Unfortunately, though… no one has seemed to want to ally themselves with me. In Dungeons and Panem, you can scarcely move two spaces if you're by yourself, and as I credit everything I've ever learned to the wonderful game, I need to find an idiot to ally myself with – you know, to use as a human shield if attacked, and a card table if bored.

But I'm not one for physical exertion, nor for sweating at all, so I settle down with my back to a tree (an _abies lasiocarpa_, if I'm not mistaken – and I never am), straighten my striped bow-tie, pull out a copy of _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy _(Sponsor Gift #11)_, _and wait for another Tribute to come upon me.

!~~!

1 hour later, I look up from Chapter 34 of my book when a scream pierces my ears. A masculine one. I frown and push my glasses up the bridge of my nose, wondering if I should investigate. According to my guidance counselor, Ms Joy Kil, I'm anti-social. I, of course, think that spending twenty-two hours a day in your room playing D&P is perfectly normal, but I'm not the expert. So the 'social' thing to do here, as Ms Kil would say, would be to follow the scream. And as long as I don't get confused, I won't get lost.

But I do get confused easily.

"Okay, shut up, Rue! Just shut up!" I yell at myself. "It's time to become Roc Paarndo Ratesca the Fifteenth, so _man up_!" And with a last spritz of Chanel No. 5 (my signature scent – IT IS NOT JUST FOR GIRLS!), I stride proudly off towards the scream.

And come running back a few seconds later, bawling my eyes out, because I have just dropped and lost Hea'ttha's chip.

!~!

2 hours, 15 minutes and 42 seconds later, I have finally gotten control of my tears and bring it down to the last few sniffles. I reach into my backpack and pull out the Official Dungeons and Panem 4-Ply Tissues™: _For Paladins When They Have Boo-Boos and Want to Cry Like a Man About Them© _(Sponsor Gift #9).

I need a plan of action, I know that now. Losing Hea'ttha has devastated me, but has also cleared my head. I decide to climb a tree – after all, it was my job back in District 11.  
Even if I was horrible at it.

_Paladin's Log #11134: Paladin Roc Paarndo Ratesca the Fifteenth  
Plan of Action: Climb a tree  
Attempt #1: Glasses got knocked off by tree branch 4 feet off ground. Took half hour to retrieve fallen glasses. Thankfully, no casualties.  
Attempt #2: Backpack fell off back and got carried away by four blue-birds. Took hour to catch flying backpack.  
Attempt #3: Suspenders got caught on branch and stuck. Took half hour to free suspenders.  
Attempt #4: Finally made it 10 feet off ground. Had to stop for two hours because of extreme acrophobia (fear of heights). Symptoms did include (but were not limited to): nausea, vomiting, pale-ness, fever, sneezing, unconsciousness, fatigue, unexplained weight loss, bladder malfunction, indigestion, runny nose and death. Eventually fell out of tree.  
Attempt #5: Success!_

Of course, success meant that I was clinging to the feeble limbs of the _abies lasiocarpa, _mewling in terror. And utterly stuck.  
Eventually, I fall asleep. Uncomfortably so, but I do.

!~!

"_Psst! Hey! Psst_!" I hiss at the over-muscled boy hanging by a few fingers from a branch in a tree nearby my own.

He glances over. "What?" he spits back. "I'm kinda busy right now, nerd, if you hadn't noticed."

I had noticed, actually. It was relatively hilarious, how this Katniss Everdeen fellow (a.k.a The Idiot on Fire) had entered running, screaming like a little girl and scrabbling up the tree next to mine. He had sat, panting hard and manly-like, for many angst-filled minutes as five figures made their way into the clearing.

_Paladin's Log #11135: Paladin Roc Paarndo Ratesca the Fifteenth  
Plan of Action: Identify Careers Swarming About Base of Tree  
Career #1: Tall, slim, blond girl – looks frightened of own shadow  
Identification: Cato, District 2  
Career #2: Downright unsexy boy  
Easy Identification: Glimmer, District 1  
Career #3: Very un-unique girl – absolutely nothing special, the kind of person an author would make a killer of nerdy boys just so she was less one-dimensional.  
Identification: Marvel (rather inaptly named), District 1  
Career #4: Boy, well-built and brown-haired, whose superlative (if we had such a thing as high school) would have been 'Least Likely to Go Insane and Torture Someone to Death'  
Easy Identification: Clove, District 2  
Career #5: Prettiest girl in the games, all other Careers seem magnetically attracted to her, leading an army of friendly woodland creatures and healing all destroyed plant life along the way.  
Identification: Peeta, District 12_

There. That had saved me the trouble of describing them lengthily, but I kept my eyes open as Glimmer, ugly enough to stun an ox, lifted a bow and shot an arrow towards Katniss. He ducked, and it flew several miles over his head.

"Should we… maybe y-you should… t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-try again?" Cato stuttered, huddled in a heap on the floor.

"Nah," commented Glimmer, scratching up his nose with one ugly fingernail. "Why should we bother? I couldn't hit him, so nobody else should try. What about climbing up? Cato, go get him!"

"What?!" yelped the scared girl. "Oh, d-d-dear! I couldn't do that!"

"Fine. Let's set up camp."

!~!

So here we are, Katniss flexing over and over again (why, I have no idea – maybe it's her game-plan or something?) in her tree, me role-playing in my head (I was up to Part 7, Chapter 29, Section 1167 in my adventure), and the Careers sleeping on the ground, with the exception of Peeta, who sits at the base of the tree, singing softly to a fawn.

"Oh, dear," she sighs. "I'm so conflicted. I want to be a good guy, but Glimmer and Clove are both in love with me, and I want to love them, but I don't! Oh, woe! Oh, angst! Oh, recipe for flames!"

The fawn lays its head in her lap and chirps.

"Yes, I know," Peeta responds quietly, stroking the fawn's soft head. "Thank you."

I groaned inaudibly and leaned back against a tree. Unlike some other people, my repeated journey on Panem's ' .com' have taught me to recognize a Mary-Sue when I see one. _Why, she's exactly like Lieutenant Mary Sue from that Panem-Trek fic I read_, I think. _She was insufferable._

I consider throwing a rock to crush Peeta's skull, but then I realize a) I'm in a tree and b) Peeta would deflect it with her super karate skills or something stupid like that.

So, instead, I hiss at Katniss, who is hanging for her life.

"You want my help?" I whisper.

"No!" He lets go of the branch with his left arm and resumes flexing.

"What in the name of Drizzt Do'urden's saggy black boxers are you doing?" I ask, citing one of the most popular characters from P&D.

"Flexing," he grunts softly. "Haymitch told me-"

"_Haymitch_!" I scoff, a little louder than necessary. "Do you know how that idiot won her Games? She annoyed seven people to death, and won the final showdown by a fluke involving hair spray and fire!"

"Huh. So… I _shouldn't_ trust her word, then?"

I groan. "You've got more hair gel than brains, Everdeen."

"Got that right! …Wait a sec-"

"Look up!" I breathe. "Tracker-jacker-smacker-lacker-dacker-wacker-chacker-tacker-packers!"

He glances up and almost falls out of the tree. Right above him is a Malibu Barbie's Dream House - which, as everyone knows, is the natural habitat of the tracker-jacker-smacker-lacker-dacker-wacker-chacker-tacker-packer! They're highly intelligent bugs which hunt in packs and bite people to death – and what a painful death it is.

Katniss shrieks and swats at the Dream House, sending it spiraling down to the earth. Plastic flies everywhere as it explodes on contact. The bugs are angry. Very angry.

"_Sorry, miss,_" they buzz as one to the wide-eyed Peeta. "_Ve know you are of being ze friend to all animals, but ve must be of killing to your friends._"

"No!" cries Peeta, even as the bugs swarm onto Clove, Cato, Glimmer and Marvel. Cato wakes first and screams so loud that the bugs attacking her drop dead of fright.

_Wow,_ I think as Cato runs hysterically into the bushes, _that was some scream_. I'm still trying to regain my hearing as Glimmer gives a last shriek of fear and dies. Clove tries to claw her way out of the bugs, yelling, "Can't we just _talk_ about our feelings? _Please_?!" Eventually, she summons the strength to run after Cato, still clawing at the bugs who pursue her.  
Marvel yells in pain, then cries, "_Shazam!"_

_ Shazam?_

Marvel is covered by a blinding light. I look away to protect my retinas, then look back.

_What the-_

Marvel is no longer an insignificant little girl. Where she stood, a well-muscled, lean, cape-and-skin-hugging-leather-clad video-game goddess perches. Suddenly, the name Marvel makes sense.

"Oh," I say out loud. "Shazam, as in-  
S – for the wisdom of Solomon  
H – for the strength of Hercules  
A – for the stamina of Atlas  
Z – for the power of Zeus  
A – for the courage of Achilles  
M – for the speed of Mercury."

"Captainess Marvel, away!" cries Marvel in agreement, shooting off into the sky and zooming away.

"Woah," I muse. "Good thing I know my comic books."

The remaining tracker-jacker-smacker-lacker-dacker-wacker-chacker-tacker-packers move to feast on Glimmer's still-warm flesh, and suddenly I realize a) how hungry I am, b) how Peeta is gone and c) Katniss is gone as well.

"Oh, well," I sigh, still stuck in the branches of the _abies lasiocarpa. _"I'm sure someone will be along to either a) rescue me or b) kill me. In the meantime" – I cheerfully pull out a P&D novel ("_Road of the Panemtriach_" - Sponser Gift #4) and settle down as comfortably as I can – "let the adventure continue!"

!~!

**A/N:** Thanks for your continued support! Next up: Peeta Mellark!


	7. Chapter 7: Peeta

**Chapter 7: Peeta**

~:~:~:~

_"Im good at too many things! WHY CAN'T I JUST BE NORMAL? IT'S A F**KING CURSE!" I shouted and then I ran away._

_~My Immortal, _Chapter 14

_~:~:~:~_

"Well, this is indeed a pickle, Twilight SparkleShine," I say in a gentle voice.

"I would agree, Miss Mellark," my friend agrees, flapping her wings. "This _is _a pickle."

"Who would have thought the Careers would come after _little old me_?" I lament, pushing the edge of the nearest sword away with my trusty sword-proof fingers.

Clove, holding a sword aloft to slice my beautiful, blond head open, suddenly pauses. He says, "Well, the thing is, Peeta… I love you, but I can't tell the others that."

"Clove, dear, you just did," I say with my undying knowledge. "And you're nice and all, but I only think of you as a friend."

Clove screams and commits hara-kiri (despite not knowing what that is) while Glimmer watches impassively.

Suddenly, Glimmer says, "Hey… how am I still alive? The tracker-jacker-smacker-lacker-dacker-wacker-chacker-tacker-packers killed me, didn't they?"

"Well, yes," I say softly, stepping over Clove's twitching body, still professing his undying love for me. "But as the lonely teenage girl or boy who created me has no sense of time or the idea of death, I was able to bring you back with my powers that I gained after a radioactive accident in the Seam that killed my parents horribly and left me with emotional scars that only true love can heal…"

Glimmer stares at me. "That was really deep, Peeta. I think that I might… might have fallen in love with you."

I pat his hand conversationally. "That's nice, Glimmer. Now, excuse me for a moment while I go cry and grieve and write sad poetry about Clove killing himself." I flick my sleek hair over my shoulders, not mean to be sexy and seductive but being it anyways, and bend over Clove's body, rocking back and forth and singing, like Neytiri in Avatar, only prettier and with a better voice.

I then take out a fountain pen and a leather-bound notebook, flip to the next available page and write:

_Clove's Ballad_

_Crimson soul_

_Dripping with blood_

_Darkness_

_Love inside_

_A glass vampire_

_Shattered in the moonlight._

There. That should keep flamers satisfied for a while. I press a kiss to Clove's still-warm forehead and stand up.

Glimmer looks confused again. "Wait… can't you bring Clove back to life like you did to me?"

I laugh, a light, tinkling, orgasm-causing sound that caused Marvel (who was back in her human form) to clutch at her stomach area, groan and fall over dramatically, even though she was a girl, like me. "Silly Glimmer!" I cry. "Making Clove come back would mean more writing! And as the creator of me clearly just made me to _avoir des relations sexuelles_ – pardon my French – with Katniss, I'd better go find him!"

Cato looked up from her fetal position on the ground. "But I-I-I th-thought that Katniss said he would n-n-never l-love anyone!"

"Yes, but my entrance will change that." I open my sparkly, pink satchel. "Here, have some bread that I made." I pull out a loaf of rainbow-colored bread and hand it to the remaining Careers. "I know your lives' dreams are to kill people and win these Games, but hopefully this bread will convince you otherwise."

Marvel and Glimmer and Cato bite into it and then their eyes turn into golden anime eyes and they all squeal with delight and go skipping off, followed by three little gray kittens with pop-tarts for bodies. That should be permanent, at least until the bread hits their lower intestines. Then, who knows? Only I. Teehee.

"Come on, Twilight SparkleShine!" I say to my best friend, a pink-and-purple splotched mockingjay who is my animal familiar and also can talk to me. "We have to go find Katniss – but first… to the ATVROP Headquarters." I bend my knees and spring up into the air, using my one of my many super-powers to fly away like a graceful eagle.

~:~:~:~:~:~

I walk into the ATVROP Headquarters (because the author of this fanfiction can't keep a secret, that stands for Awesome Teenage Vampire Rebels of Panem and Peeta is their leader) and gaze around me, so that the reader can get a clear picture of what the campsite looks like. Picture leather army tents with posters of Rosalie and Emmett and Jasper and Edward and Bella all over them. And then I walk on.

Aerxes Running Wolf Haviland, my hot second-in-command, jogs up to me, bronze hair tousled and silver eyes gleaming in the sunlight.

"Hey, Peeta," he says in a deep, throaty voice.

I turn my violet (that means bright purple, BTW) gaze on Aerxes. My eyes reflect deep sorrow over the loss of my parents, sorrow I never truly got over. And pain. But it cleared up a little when I saw Aerxes. I had had a crush on him for a long time, but I knew he would never go for a girl like me – and I was leader of the ATVROPs anyway, so I had to choose duty over love.

"Hey, Aerxes," I say back. "What news?"

"Well… we killed three Tributes and drank their blood because we were, like, hungry."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. We're out of body glitter. We need more."

I throw up my hands. "OMG, Aerxes, stop trying to be like Edward! It will never work!" _Because you're a lot more amazing than he ever was_, I add silently. Aerxes annoys me a lot. But I still like him.

Aerxes bares his fangs. "Fine, then. I'll have to go without body glitter, then. And, Peeta, the cameras are waiting. I know you tricked up the campsite with your special technology knowledge so that cameras can't see into it, but the Gamemakers will be wondering where you are."

"Alright. Let me just get a shower first."

I take off my clothes behind a tree and jump into a fully operational Panem shower, letting the hot water run over my super-model curves. I start singing a song I made up myself:

_"Deep in the meadow, under the willow _

_A bed of grass, a soft green pillow _

_Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes _

_And when again they open, the sun will rise. _

_Here it's safe, here it's warm _

_Here the daisies guard you from every harm _

_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true _

_Here is the place where I love you."_

And yes, I did make that song up myself. Completely and utterly. No one else wrote it. I did.

When I get out of the shower, I put on one of those Peace t-shirt and Nicki Minaj ripped jeans and Green Day thigh-length leather boots. And I wore a pink bow in my hair and I put on a Taylor Swift necklace, lamenting how hard my life was.

And then I left the campsite, not wanting to talk to Aerxes. He doesn't deserve me, anyways. But I know someone who does.

Hint hint. Giggle.

~:~:~:~:~

I sit in the middle of the meadow and strum a golden guitar I found, singing one of my poems out loud:

_"A serpent rose_

_Dances in the winter flame_

_A cold, unreachable goddess."_

Twilight SparkleShine perched on my arm. "That's pretty," she remarked.

"Thank you." I smile, and pick up a flute, trilling a melody into it that Twilight SparkleShine copies. Then I do the same with a violin that I found. And a clarinet. And a grand piano.

Katniss walks into the clearing. "Oh. It's you. Slighty hot girl."

I sing out, "Hello, Katniss!"

He looked slightly confused. "What's your name again?"

I am a little hurt that he can't remember my name, but I say, "Peeta Raven Skye Mellark," like it doesn't bother me.

"Oh, right," Katniss says. "You were President Snow in the National Panem Play last year, right?"

"Yes, I was," I say modestly, blinking my long lashes at him. "I was the star, but I've never had any drama lessons, you know."

"Whatever," he says, pulling out a hand mirror and inspecting himself. "Hey, want to partner up? We could make a useful team, you with your telepathy and flight and resourcefulness and languages and your bird, and me with my hotness."

"Sure," I say, knowing that if he ever decided to turn against me, I could use my mind-control abilities to sort him out.

Suddenly, ninjas attack!

Katniss whips out his bow and starts shooting at the ninjas, but they grab him and tie him to a tree and start hitting him. So I pull out my trusty katanas (I'm one-eigth Asian) and start beating up the ninjas and slicing them to pieces. There were at least eighty, but I defeated them without breaking a sweat or getting a scratch on my body.

And then I walked over to Katniss and untied him.

"That was impressive," he says, gasping for breath. "Not as impressive as my muscles, but still…. Impressive."

"_Tshagh tyr_," I say in Antarctican (BTW that means _'thank you'). _

"I guess it's a good idea that we're partnered. Want to try that star-crossed lover thing that Effie said to do?"

I shook my head. "I'd never give my love to someone who didn't love me back! Never!"

And then I read his thoughts (telepathy is another one of my powers) and he was thinking, _I might be able to love her. Even if her muscles aren't as big as mine, which might be a good thing because then I won't be jealous of her. After all, I have my pick of the girls back home, why not Peeta? She's hot, she seems to be smart – not that I care about intelligence – and might help me survive. Why not? I might be able to love her…_

And then I lean over and kiss him and he wraps his big, manly arms around me and we roll around on the meadow floor as Twilight SparkleShine whistles _My Heart Will Go On _from _Titanic _above us.

My violet eyes meet his hazel ones and I know everything will be alright.

Even if President Snow did send me into the Games to kill Katniss Everdeen.

_Peeta's Poem_

_A blood angel_

_Watches from a star_

_Forevermore_

_She bakes bread to lure the mockingjay._

___~:~:~:~~:~:~:~__~:~:~:~~:~:~:~__~:~:~:~~:~:~:~__~:~:~:~~:~:~:~__~:~:~:~~:~:~:~__~:~:~:~~:~:~:~__~:~:~:~~:~:~:~__~:~:~:~~:~:~:~__~:~:~:~~:~:~_

**___A/N:_**___Duh duh duhhhhhh! I bet you guys weren't expecting that plot twist! Muhahaha! Still, this chapter makes me cringe every time I look at it. I think Peeta was Sueish enough, and hopefully it'll make you cringe too, because that's kind of the point of this chapter - to make you laugh and wince. Not at the same time, though - you'll strain yourself. Please review, guys! I've been going through a creative slump (partly because of homework) and I'm chalking it off to terminal-not-enough-reviewiosus. Or something. _

___NEXT TIME ON GENDER REASSIGNMENT:_

___"Why can't we be friends?  
Why can't we be friends?  
Why can't we be friends?  
Why can't we be friends?  
I seen you 'round for a long long time  
I really 'membered you when you drink my wine  
Why can't we be friends?" _

___President Snow sang to herself as she walked in her garden, pruning her yellow, red and blue roses. Not white, though. Never white. White was a mean color, and Coriolanus Snow was anything but mean. In 5th Grade of Panem National School, she had won the President's Prize for Kindness... two hundred and seventeen times in a row. As her high school superlative, she was voted, "Least Likely to Be an Evil Dictator and Take Lots of Other People's Lives for Own Personal Gain'. It was a hard-won title._


	8. Chapter 8: President Snow

**Chapter 8: Coriolanus Snow**

_Pushover [poosh-oh-ver]_

_Part of Speech: noun_

_Definition: something someone easily influenced_

_Synonyms: breeze, child's play, chump, cinch, duck soup,easy game, easy mark, easy pickings, fool, kidstuff, picnic, piece of cake, setup, snap, softtouch, stooge, sucker, victim, walkover, **President Snow**_

**_~:~:~:~:~:~_**

_"Why can't we be friends?  
Why can't we be friends?  
Why can't we be friends?  
I seen you 'round for a long long time ,  
I really 'membered you when you drink my wine  
Why can't we be friends?"_

I sing to myself as I walk in my garden, pruning my yellow, red and blue roses. Not white, though. Never white. White was a mean color, and I am anything but mean. In 5th Grade of Panem National School, I won the President's Prize for Kindness... two hundred and seventeen times in a row. As my high school superlative, I was voted, "Least Likely to Be an Evil Dictator and Take Lots of Other People's Lives for Own Personal Gain'. It was a hard-won title.

"President Snow! Prezzie Snow!"

I turn, a wide, genuine grin stretched across my lovely, kind face. "Ooh! Hello, Seneca! What can I help you with today?"

The impossibly-skinny, beardless woman stumbles up to me and flicks her long, brunette hair over her shoulder, adjusting her pink be-dazzled rhinestone sunglasses as she does so. "Prezzie Snow, I have to report a complaint. _Now."_

"Of course, Seneca. What is it?" I ask, concerned.

"There weren't any chocolate croissants at this morning's _a la carte_ buffet! There were meant to be, and there weren't!" she whines, raising her voice so that some of my private gardeners look up from their work.

I wave them back to their jobs, promising pay raises a-plenty. They nod, used to it. Maybe I should dock their pay a little. I shake my head, smiling. No. It would be mean to dock even a cent off of their eight figure salaries. How else would they feed their families? No one can feed their starving children on only a million dollars. It's preposterous!

"Seneca, Seneca, I am _so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so _sorry. I honestly have no idea why there were no chocolate croissants. This will be fixed immediately," I reassure her.

"Well, maybe," she huffs, flipping her brown bangs out of her eyes and snapping her bubble gum, which she is chewing voraciously. "But can't you fire the Avox responsible?"

"I'd love to, Seneca, I really would, but that would be mean-"

"Oh, come on, Coriolanus! Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with raspberry sprinkles and dead Tributes on top?" she begs, lacing her hands together.

"Maybe…" I ponder. I just can't say no to anybody, which can be a disadvantage at times, especially when it comes to times of passing laws. How I said 'yes' to 'National Killer Kittens Day' and '_Superbabies: Baby Geniuses_ Movie Marathon Week'. "I'll think about it Seneca."

"That's _not _an answer." Seneca stamps her foot angrily and I smile.

"Fine, fine!" I raise my hands in defeat. "I'll fire them!"

"That's _grrrre-aaaaat!" _Seneca yells, hugging me. I hug her back, happy for the human contact. I need a boyfriend. Maybe.

"Okay! Now that that's over, wanna come watch My Little Pony with me?" I say happily, straightening the bright yellow rose in my lapel. Not white. Never white.

"What version?" Seneca asks suspiciously. She only likes the Original Version.

"Well… I was going to suggest My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, because I love that silly Pinkie Pie, but if you want to watch the Original Version-"

"No! I will not watch Friendship is Magic because-"

What follows happens to be a three-hour debate on which version was better, which seemed to consist mostly of Seneca yelling, "Original!" and me saying, "Okie-doki-loki," in a very quiet, sad voice.

"Right!" says Seneca triumphantly. "I'll go put the tape in! Let's watch _The Great Rainbow Caper! _No! _The End of Flutter Valley!_ NO! _The Ghost of Paradise Estate!_ NOOOOO! _Rescue from Midnight Castle!_ YEAH!"

"Excuse me, Seneca," I say wearily, glancing towards my hedge-maze. "A shadowy man over there is subtly trying to signal that he'd like to speak with me in private."

The shadowy man face-palmed himself and motioned me over towards him. Before I went, I turned to Seneca quickly.

"Oh, hey, Seneca?" I ask, and the woman turns, an annoyed look on her face. "Sorry, but I was wondering. Maybe perhaps possibly we could have gorillas with pies in the Games? You know, for hungry Tributes?"

"Gotcha. Gorillas with chainsaws for nearly-dead Tributes. Can do, Prezzie!"

"What? No-" But Seneca's already gone. "How does 'pies' sound even remotely like 'chainsaws'?" I ask no one in particular.

I walk over to the shadowy man. "Hi, I'm President Coriolanus Snow," I say, sticking out my hand for him to shake. "I'm very pleased to meet you." I will never say "WHAT IN FREDDIE PANEMERCURY'S NAME ARE YOU DOING IN MY GARDEN, INTRUDER?!" because that would be rude.

"Hey," he says in a cold, creepy voice. "You need to kill Katniss Everdeen."

"Why?" I ask, surprised. "The Meatball on Fire? The Boy Who Was a Meatball? The Boy Literally on Fire? But he seemed like such a nice boy! Especially on live television!" Memories of Katniss' interview with Caesar flash back to me, and I wince. That _was _a disaster. And as for Caesar… well, I didn't like to think about it. Ugh. "Why would I want to kill him?"

"Because he's an underdog. And you don't like underdogs," the shadowy man intones.

"Ooh! Ooh! Yes, yes, I do! I've been to the Districts before, and they're all underdogs! I love them all!" I answer enthusiastically.

"No, you don't."

"I don't?"

"President Snow, have you ever been hypnotized?" he asks.

"No, I can't say I have. I don't think I'd like it."

"I'm going to hypnotize you."

"But- well, okay, I guess."

The man comes out into the sunlight a little further. His stringy gray hair falls to his shoulders, and his eyes look like slush that you wish would melt away. Where have I heard that before? Come to that, where have _you _heard that before?

Anyhoo, the man holds out a watch and swings it back and forth, chanting, "You will kill Everdeen by any means necessary. You will kill Everdeen by any means necessary. You will kill Everdeen by any means necessary. You will kill Everdeen by any means necessary. You will kill Everdeen by any means necessary. You will kill Everdeen by any means necessary. You will kill Everdeen by any means necessary. You will kill Everdeen by any means necessary. You will kill Everdeen by any means necessary. You will kill Everdeen by any means necessary."

"Okay."

~:~:~:~:~

"Are you sure this will work, Seneca?" I look doubtfully at the DREAM INTERFERER CHAMBER. It doesn't stand for anything. An angry man named it, and he had a habit of screaming in all Capitol letters. Geddit? Cause we live in the Capitol, and-

Hahahahaha. I'm so hilarious. Anyways.

"Yup. Just put this helmet on, and my GENIUS CREATION," she yells, to attract attention, "and you will be inside the dreams of a random Tribute."

"Uh, which Tribute?"

"A random one!" she shoves the helmet, wires and all, down onto my head.

"Uh, Seneca? This is safe, right?"

"Yeah. Sure. Good luck, Prezzie!" she chirps, slamming a big red button.

I pass out within a few seconds.

~:~:~:~:~:~

"Hello?" my voice sounds echoic in the dark black void that is a Tribute's dream. Hopefully this random Tribute will be someone evil and soulless, someone who won't be afraid to kill Katniss Everdeen…

"Yes? Who is it?" a voice sings out of the darkness, and a blonde angel appears.

"Ah. Peeta Mellark, right?" I'm disappointed, but very happy I get to meet the beautiful girl in person.

"Yes! I'm Peeta. And you're President Snow, right? It's so very nice to see you! Is this a dream?" She flicks her hair over her shoulders and fixes me with a violet stare that looks into my soul. Thankfully, I'm not too worried. My conscience is clean as a whistle. I've never killed anyone! On purpose.

"Uh, no, dear." I wave my hands in scary motions. "_Whoooooo. I'm a ghooooost."_

Peeta cocks her head. "No, you're not, silly. I have magical specter-senses, and I would know if you were a ghost."

"Fine. You're very clever." I drop the façade. "Peeta, I need you to kill Katniss Everdeen."

"But – but why?" she asks, looking horrified. "He's kind of cute, and I would never kill anyone! That would be horribly un-Sueish of me!"

"I know, sweetie, I know." I gather her into a warm hug, feeling the pulses of the hypnosis inside me. "But a man whose identity will be revealed at a later date told me that you had to."

She pushes away from me, tears streaking down her porcelain face. "What if I refuse?" she asks bravely.

"Then…" I struggle to repeat what the shadowy man told me. It's horribly out-of-character for me. "Then… I kill your family!" I have to restrain myself from bursting into tears. I don't want to kill anyone!

"No!" she whispers, putting her hands over her face. "You really are evil, President. Wait – how would you kill them? Do you even know who they are?"

I pick up the ghost idea again. "_That is irrrreelevaaaaaant!" _I howl. "You must kill Katniss!"

"Okay," sniffs Peeta. "For my family." A box of tissues appears out of nowhere and she wipes her nose mournfully, looking oddly sexy in the half-light. "But I will have my revenge on you."

"Of course you will, sweetie. Good luck to you." I pat her on the head, wipe away a tear of her own.

Next to me, Peeta sits down and pulls out a notebook and a biro, presumably to write some beautiful poetry. She looks up at me. "How… h-how do I… kill Katniss?"

"Um…" I consider this. I'm probably the worst person in all of Panem to answer this question, as I have absolutely no experience in the field of murder and killing. "Make him your lover." I repeat one of the lines from the many soap operas that I watch on a daily basis.

"Okay." She looks sad.

"I have to go," I say, feeling the helmet twitch on my head. "Good luck killing Mr Everdeen."

I disappear, leaving Peeta to stare into a pool of water that just appeared, contemplating her terrible future.

~:~:~:~:~

"Seneca, I feel horrible! I don't want to be responsible for anyone's death!" I cry, leaning on the other woman's shoulder.

Seneca rolls her eyes. "Just forget about it, Snowy. You want to go watch some My Little Pony?"

"Can we watch the Friendship is Magic version?"

"No. Original Version."

"Okie-doki-loki," I sigh.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

**A/N:** _Whooooooo! Whooooo was that mysterrrrriooouuuussss maaaaaan?_ That was my ghost voice, if you couldn't tell. Mysterious man hints: remember, genders are reversed and all characters are actually in the book.

Anyways, thanks for reading, and please review! Please?

Just so you guys know, this is my last chapter for any stories for the month of November - I'm taking a hiatus/holiday and will be back in December!

NEXT TIME ON GENDER REASSIGNMENT:

_"Love not Kids Killing Each Other! Love not Kids Killing Each Other! Love not Kids Killing Each Other!" I chant in a dreamy voice, hoisting a poster in the air._

_Everyone around me ignores me, as per usual. But that is normal, man. Considering I do this every morning, you would have thought that someone would have responded by now. Oh, well. Peace out. I stand in front of the Justice Building, one lonely, peace-loving hippy rallying and chanting. While some others might want to rebel, I'm willing to launch a peaceful protest - no violence, just demonstrating for as long as it takes. I already have six PanemTwitter followers on my fanpage!_


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